Seven Days
by Kennette
Summary: At Dean's new high school there is a rumour about a third year who will date the first person who asks him out on Monday morning, only to break up with them a week later. Dean thinks nothing of it at first, but when he meets the boy he asks him out on a whim. It was a joke, or at least he thought it was. Slash.
1. Monday

**Summary: **At Dean's new high school there is a rumour about a third year who will date the first person who asks him out on Monday morning, only to break up with them a week later. Dean thinks nothing of it at first, but when he meets the boy he asks him out on a whim. It was a joke, or at least he thought it was. SLASH

**Timeline: **The year is 1996. Dean is 17.

**Warnings: **Foul language, violence, child abuse, and adult themes. Contains slash.

**A/N: **I took the idea for this story from a manga called "Seven Days" (yes, I took the name too) so please give credit to the writer (Tachibana Venio) and the artist (Takarai Rihito). I just thought it was an interesting concept and wanted to put a Supernatural spin on it, so no copyright infringement intended. Anyway, read the manga because it's absolutely adorable. I intend to make this story a whole lot darker, but it's sort of just for fun.

**SEVEN DAYS**

Monday

**9:10 AM**

I sighed as I twirled my pen between my fingers, not even pretending to concentrate on what the teacher was saying. The old woman's voice was soft and quiet and her words were uninteresting. Listening would only put me to sleep, and I refused to nap now. I wanted to say it was because a hunter never let his guard down, but the nightmares were the real reason. I didn't want to suffer through another one so soon. Not after the one I had experienced last night. And the night before that. And the one before that…

I recalled the woman's eyes, wide and terrified, as she was ripped apart. The image flashed inside my mind again, unwanted and never beckoned. For a moment I thought I could hear her screaming and I sat rigid in my chair, my hand grasping the pen I had been fiddling with until my knuckles turned white. I wanted to stand up and shout and knock desks over but I forced myself to remain still and quiet.

It was a difficult task to accomplish. I had not slept well for the past few days and I was already fighting exhaustion caused by the intense combat drill I had pushed myself through early this morning. I was entering the stage of sleep deprivation where I stopped giving a crap about whether people thought I was crazy or not. Screaming and hitting things right now didn't seem like that bad of an idea. Maybe while I was at it I could tell all these dumbasses the truth about their world. I wouldn't mind shattering their realities. Crush the shards into a million pieces.

As I focused on my breathing, trying to calm myself down and avoid making a scene, I looked around the classroom, wondering if anyone knew what I was thinking about. The guy to my left had his head propped up by a hand, clearly bored out of his mind. The girl to my right was scribbling things in a notebook, trying hard to record every single one of the teacher's words. No one was paying attention to what I was thinking or feeling or doing. That both comforted and dismayed me.

I began to watch the clock. Minutes ticked by like they were purposely taking their time to annoy me. There were still ten minutes left of class but I wasn't sure if I would make it. I finally managed to release my grip from the pen I held and placed it calmly on the top of my desk. Then I raised my hand.

"Yes, Dean?"

"Can I go to the washroom?" I asked quickly.

The teacher smiled warmly at me and I tried to remember her name, but gave up quickly. "Of course you may."

I bolted out of there like the place was on fire. I didn't go to the washroom, but instead exited the building through the back doors, entering "the garden", as the students liked to call the walled-in area behind the school. I immediately made my way to an isolated stretch of the brick wall that surrounded the space, fighting the urge to punch the structure and break my fingers. Instead, I slammed the heel of my hand against the wall, again and again, taking in the pain as the gritty texture of the bricks scratched at my skin.

_School is a fucking joke._ That's what I thought as I leaned against the wall and let my head fall back. Then I released a long sigh, my heartbeat finally beginning to return to its original tempo. The fresh air seemed to calm me, although its frigidness burned my throat a little. _All those kids in there have no fucking clue._

It had only been a week since I had arrived at Kimberley Trenton High School. Located in downtown Boston, the school was neither in the safest area nor the wealthiest. The wall I was leaning against was supposed to keep unwanted visitors out. However, I figured it had probably been constructed with the intent of trapping the students inside. Even the space I was standing in looked like some sort of overgrown prison yard. It was clear that it had once been a garden, but the plants had been neglected over the years and were now just a bunch of scraggly weeds plotted randomly across the area. A couple of isolated bleachers had been pushed against the far wall, but they were rusty and often held puddles in the numerous dents that littered their metal frames.

I glanced at the back of the old, deteriorating school building, shoving my hands in my pockets as a gust of chilly air ran past me. I knew inside was warm, but I couldn't stand to be in there any longer. It was always the fucking same. High school had become a parody of itself. It seemed everyone knew it, but they were all too indifferent to care. Instead, they all played their parts. The jocks would hassle the nerds in the hallways and the pretty, popular girls would flirt with anything that walked by with a social status. The teachers took every excuse they could to feign teaching while complaining about their small paycheques in their oversized lounge room. Useless rumours would spread like wildfire, beginning at one end of the cafeteria and reaching the opposite side before the lunch bell with plenty of time to spare for a smoke in the bathroom. I had seen it in every high school I had come across, and I was sick of it.

It felt like I'd been here for much longer than seven days. It always did, no matter what school I enrolled in, perhaps because they were all the same, blending with each other to form one giant memory of educational institutions that never seemed to end. I consoled myself by remembering that there was only one year left before I graduated. One more year of high school. If I could survive a poltergeist attack, I could certainly survive this, or so I hoped.

Something large and heavy dropped from the sky and landed to my side, immediately setting off my instincts. I was crouching with a knife ready in my right hand, eyes quickly darting to the object that lay before me, trying to decipher what it was and how I would counter any attack it made. But then I realized it was only a backpack. A plain, black bag that was now smeared with dirt.

I heard scuffling and then I was looking up. The sun blinded my view but it was suddenly obstructed by a dark figure. Someone was climbing over the brick wall, and in moments the intruder had jumped down and was standing a few feet from me.

I sighed again as I slipped the knife back into its hidden position at the small of my back, making sure the stranger didn't catch a glimpse of it. Then I slid down the wall and sat on my haunches. I had come out here to get away from school and the teachers and the students, but it seemed it was impossible to find privacy anywhere on this property.

The boy stooped down and grabbed his bag by a strap, flinging it onto his back, not seeming to care if his clothes got dirty. I watched him using my peripheral vision, unwilling to look up and preferring to remain silent. I wasn't going to ask what the guy had been doing scaling the wall, because honestly, I didn't give a shit. If he was late and trying to arrive without being penalized, mission accomplished. I wasn't about to rat the guy out. After all, I had asked for a washroom break nearly ten minutes ago. I wasn't exactly the example of a model student myself.

"Sorry if I startled you," a quiet voice said.

"You didn't," I grunted. "I don't get scared that easily."

"That's... good I suppose." The student's reply was hesitant, and I wondered why he had replied at all, why he was still talking to me and not rushing to class. "I can't say the same for myself."

I wasn't sure why, but the unusual statement caught my attention and I found myself glancing upwards. The boy was standing to my right, looking off in the direction of the school. His hair was black, and when the sun shone on it, the strands appeared to have a bluish tinge.

"You one of those kids who're still afraid of the monster under your bed?" I asked. I had stopped being afraid of that monster a long time ago, ever since I realized there were real monsters to be feared.

"Monsters are real, you know," the boy said without looking at me. It seemed like the statement had been made more for his ears than for mine.

I furrowed my eyebrows, not having expected such a reply. "What?"

The guy leaned back against the brick wall, his hands shoved in his pockets like mine had been only minutes ago. He was staring upwards now, at the sky, the colour of his eyes a deep, reddish brown. I couldn't stop myself from thinking that he was peculiar looking, though not necessarily in a bad way. If I had to guess, I'd say he was half-Asian. His eyes reminded me of a cat's.

"Monsters," he repeated. "I've seen them."

I felt my heart beat slightly faster again. "You go around telling people that, they might think you're crazy," I warned, wondering if he knew the truth. Was he different from all the other students?

Dark eyes turned in my direction. The boy smiled faintly, a little by force. "You're right. Forget I said anything."

I cocked my head to the side. Then I stood up, straightening my back. I was slightly taller than the guy, but not by much. "What's your name?"

"Bryce," he replied. "My name is Bryce Caldwell."

I thought the name sounded familiar. Then I remembered. I had heard rumours about this kid, rumours that he would go out with the first person who approached him on a Monday morning, but only to break up with them after seven days. It was like clockwork, I had been told, but girls continued to ask him out because each and every one thought she would be the one who would last longer. None had made it yet, and apparently he never went out with the same girl twice.

I nodded my head slowly. "Huh. So _you're_ the Seven Days guy."

He looked surprised. "You've heard about that?"

"The whole school talks about it. I've only been here a few days and I already know the entire story. I'm guessing you were scaling the wall to avoid the front gate and all the lovely young ladies lining up to ask you out, huh?"

He looked down at the ground. "I didn't know so many people knew about it."

"Well apparently you've got half the school's population asking you out. I don't think something like that goes unnoticed very often."

The guy let out something that sounded like a laugh but not quite. He was smiling by force again when he lifted his head. "I guess not."

I raised an eyebrow. "So it's true then? You'll go out with the first person who approaches you on Monday morning?"

He nodded his head and I couldn't help but laugh. I was shaking my head when I said, "That's such bullshit." Bryce looked a little taken aback, so I decided to clarify. "You're telling me that even if the ugliest chick in the school came up to you right now and asked you out, you'd say yes? You'd date her for a week?"

Bryce shrugged. "I guess so."

"Yeah right," I scoffed, leaning a shoulder against the wall. "I don't buy that."

The guy looked like he was a little offended as he replied, "I'm not lying."

"All right, then how about this." I took a step forward, narrowing the distance between us. "What would you say if _I_ asked you out?" His eyes widened and I felt a little satisfaction at having stumped him. "Come on," I teased. "I'm asking you out. What are you going to say?"

He opened his mouth to reply but then closed it again. I let out a chuckle at his speechlessness. "That's what I thought," I said, having called his bluff. He scowled, but before he could reply the bell rang, signifying the end of first period. I smirked and turned away, making my way back to the building's rear entrance.

I stopped after a few steps, looking over my shoulder. I had enjoyed this little distraction. I felt more like my normal self again. "And don't worry about the monster under your bed," I called back. "If it were real, you'd probably be dead by now." Then I continued my trek back to school, wondering what would be today's lunch special.

**12:18 PM**

"One helping of Monday Surprise", the old bat croaked as she shovelled a heaping pile of dog shit onto my plate. I grimaced, but tried to continue smiling as I leaned forward over the counter.

"Eleanor, you know I love surprises," I lied, "but I'm willing to bet you have something better than this. You know, like some actual edible-"

"Next!" she shouted, her expression not budging from the scowl permanently imprinted on her face.

Had I really expected anything more? Still, I had to try. "Eleanor, did you get a haircut recently? There's something different about you…"

She looked at me, clearly not amused in the slightest. "Ever since you've started coming to this school I've grown nauseated by your attempts at compliments," she replied in a deep, rusty voice. "So nauseated, in fact, that I haven't been able to eat my lunch for a week."

I couldn't help but smirk. "You're a tough lady to impress, Eleanor. I hope you enjoy your lunch today as much as I enjoy mine." I held up my tray to show the sloppy mess of crud splattered across the plate. Then I reluctantly shuffled down the line, allowing the next student to discover what surprise Monday held.

God, I hated Mondays.

The cafeteria was busy but I managed to find an empty table in the corner, just like always. I had a suspicion that it was somehow reserved for me, and it didn't take a genius to know who had gone through the trouble of making that happen. As I sat down, a carton of milk and an apple accompanying my Monday Surprise, I was immediately joined by another. Katie Lancaster. Head cheerleader, president of the student body, and hottest chick in school. She had set her sights on me from the very first moment I had walked into Spanish class on my first day, and she had made it glaringly clear to every other girl in the school that I was her property. Those who flirted with me were pretty much committing social suicide. Katie could make your life a living hell if she wanted to, and from what I'd heard, she had done it for a lot less.

I wasn't her property, of course, but sometimes I tossed her a bone and played my part. Like I said, she was hot, and she also happened to find it thrilling when her hand 'accidentally' came across my dick in Spanish class. Getting a hand job beneath the desks at the back of class sure as hell beat focusing on conjugated vowels and how to say 'I am wearing blue pants' in a different language. The only other lingo I was willing to learn was Latin, and that was only because it was known to save hunters' lives from time to time.

"Hi, Dean," Katie smiled, her perfectly straight teeth gleaming a little brighter than normal. I guessed she had undergone some kind of new whitening procedure. They were almost unnaturally bright.

"Hey, Katie," I said, returning my gaze to my tray. I pretended to find my Monday Special appealing as I pushed the brown goop around on my plate, but I never attempted to shovel a spoonful into my mouth. Meanwhile, Katie began to chatter away. She talked about her upcoming 18th birthday and all the fun things she planned to do, like throw the biggest party the school would ever see. Her parents were going to book a suite somewhere in the city to allow her to throw the party, and she was going to invite only an exclusive number of people to attend. Apparently I was among the lucky few.

I sighed silently to myself, my stomach growling. Why Katie, a rich white girl, was slumming it in this rundown school was beyond me. Apparently she had been kicked out of every private school in Boston due to inappropriate behaviour. I'd heard rumours that she had even broken up several teachers' marriages. These rumours had interested me at first, but after spending a few hours with the girl I had quickly come to the conclusion that she was all talk, or gossip, in her case. She had probably started those rumours herself, because even though she was willing to give hand jobs out in class, it was glaringly obvious that she was still a virgin. I had been with enough girls, and enough types of girls, to know this easily, and to understand that Katie would never admit it.

As she continued to talk, I grew bored quickly. I eventually tuned out and began to look around the cafeteria. It had grown busier since I had sat down, and as my vision skimmed across the tables and their occupants, I met several sets of eyes that flitted away as soon as I met theirs. Of course Katie and I were a hot topic around the school and were often watched during our lunchtime together. Everyone wondered if we were secretly dating, which sometimes amused me but usually just annoyed the hell out of me.

My roaming eyes halted as I caught sight of the boy from earlier. I recalled his name was Bryce. He was sitting at a seat a few tables away, a number of girls surrounding him. They were all giggling about something but he wasn't laughing. He was smiling politely instead, but I could tell it was an act. I had learned from a very young age the importance of being able to tell a fake smile from a real one, and Bryce's was as fake as they came. However, the girls didn't seem to notice as they continued to giggle. I found myself wondering which one of them was the lucky week-long girlfriend Bryce had chosen this morning.

The kid suddenly looked in my direction. Our eyes met for a moment and I held his gaze. The staring contest was born more out of alpha male instinct than anything else. The guy didn't seem like he was going to look away, but then one of the girls snuggled next to his shoulder and he was distracted. I held back a sneer, wondering why he had scaled a wall earlier today to avoid being found by the girls who apparently fawned over him on a daily basis. Then I remembered I was supposed to be listening to Katie and guessed I could relate to him. Girls weren't everything. Sex wasn't always great. Life wasn't always sunshine and lollipops.

I left lunch early to have a cigarette in the men's washroom, leaving a disappointed Katie behind. I didn't smoke often, but I had picked up the bad habit a few months ago after watching a woman be torn to shredded pieces by a rabid Black Dog. Nicotine didn't stop the images from replaying behind my eyelids, but the whole lung cancer thing made me feel a little better. If I smoked, it was like I was aiding karma. In the future, if I ever developed cancer, I'd know it was punishment for not being able to save that woman. I had told my dad this same reasoning when he had caught me smoking behind one of the motels we were staying at a few weeks after the event. John had torn the cigarette from my lips, had grabbed my chin, and had forced me to look at him as he told me I was a fucking moron.

_I am a fucking moron_, I thought as I inhaled another lungful of toxic chemicals, despising the taste. I ground the stub out in the sink, leaving a black smudge on the yellowing porcelain. Then I splashed some water on my face and observed my reflection in the mirror for a moment. I looked tired, but not as exhausted as I felt.

I ran a hand down my face as I let out a sigh and turned away. As I left my reflection, I was surprised to see someone standing at the entrance of the washroom. It was Bryce. He was watching me with no discernible expression on his face. We both said nothing for a moment, but then I eventually spoke up. "You need to use the stall or something?" I asked, wondering why he was just standing there. "I'm leaving, so go ahead and take care of your business." I went to walk past him but Bryce stepped in front of my path.

"You shouldn't smoke."

"What?" I gave him a quizzical look, raising one of my eyebrows.

"It's bad for you," he said, his expression still nonexistent. "It causes cancer, makes you smell bad, and turns your skin yellow. Not to mention it makes you look like a moron."

I rolled my eyes, wondering where this was all coming from. "You sound like my dad."

"Your dad sounds smart."

I pinned him with a glare. "He is smart, but you obviously aren't, thinking you can tell me what I can and cannot do. Now move out of my way."

I tried to shove past him again but he just took a step back. "I think I have the right to have an input."

I couldn't help but openly scoff. "What the fuck makes you think you have _any_ say in what I do?"

He tilted his head to the side. "Well... we're dating, aren't we?"

I didn't quite have a reaction. I stood there silently, turning his words over in my mind, trying to interpret them in various ways. I eventually came to the conclusion that I had misheard. I let out a bit of a disbelieving laugh, feeling foolish for having conjured up such a scenario. "Sorry, what did you say?" I asked him.

He blinked, but then repeated the same words I had dismissed earlier. "We're dating."

I knew I should be laughing right now, but the sound caught in my throat. The look on Bryce's face was completely serious. "You're fucking with me, right?" was all I could say.

Bryce shook his head, dark strands bouncing back and forth. "You asked me out. You were the _first_ to ask me out this morning, so I'm dating you."

I was flabbergasted. This guy was serious. He thought we were actually a couple. "It was a joke," I explained, making sure my words were clear. "I don't actually want to date you."

Bryce shrugged. "But you asked me. I have to go out with you now."

I rubbed my eyes. "I'm straight, dude."

"I told you I'd date anyone who asked me," he replied in a determined tone. "That doesn't just go for the ugliest girl in school."

I gave him an annoyed look. "You're messed up, you know that?"

"Appearance doesn't bother me," he said. "I suppose that _is_ a little strange, and I guess you can call it messed up, but it's the way I think. Now, I had to reject three girls today because you had already asked me out. If they find out I'm not dating anyone then they're going to be upset."

"Then let them be fucking upset," I said, not quite understanding his reasoning and becoming more pissed off. "Besides, it's called _lying_. Try it."

Bryce shook his head once more. "I don't lie."

"Everyone lies."

"Not me."

"Then your life must be pretty fucking tough."

"It does get bothersome at times, like when fourth year males ask me out."

I scoffed, but I didn't know what to say in retaliation. Technically, I _had_ asked the guy out. It had been a joke, of course, but apparently Bryce hadn't gotten the punch line. I looked away, trying to decide how to handle this bizarre situation. When I returned my gaze to him, the kid was still staring at me, but a crease had appeared between his eyes. It didn't look like he was willing to give this crazy prank up.

"Look, I'm not going to let you walk around telling everyone that we're dating or some messed up shit like that. You have to understand what I'm telling you. I'm _not_ _interested_. Not in you. Not in your stupid little weekly game. Not in this fucking school. I'm gonna be gone from here soon, anyway, so go find someone else to piss off, all right? Or better yet, go make one of those girls I saw you with earlier happy. Kapish?"

For a fraction of second I saw a flash of something cross his face, but before I could discern the emotion it was gone and he was looking down. "Fine," he said. "I won't bother you anymore today." I wondered where his determination had disappeared to in such a short time, but he had already turned around and left the washroom.

I stood in place for a few minutes afterward, wondering how I had found myself in such a strange position. But then I simply shook my head and made my way out of the room, already late for chemistry class. Seemed like high school could still surprise me.

**10:23 PM**

"Dean."

Dating? Had he actually been serious? Or had Bryce just been getting back at me for playing with him earlier?

"Deeean."

It was so fucking hard to tell with that stupid expressionless face he always had. Would it really kill the guy to lift an eyebrow, maybe smile a little for once and mean it?

Deeeeeean."

"_What_?" I snapped, whipping my head to the side in order to glare at my little brother.

Sam didn't seem fazed by my death stare as he looked at me from his position on the other queen-sized bed. "I asked you to turn up the volume. I can't hear anything."

I rolled my eyes, something I seemed to be doing a lot of lately. We were watching one of Sam's boring documentaries again. I usually didn't mind the ones that involved animal chases and zebras getting pulled apart by hungry lions or hyenas, but ever since witnessing a similar scene involving a human being, I didn't quite have the appetite for them any longer. Luckily, this one was about forensic science, and although it was boring as shit it was better than nothing.

I turned up the volume with the remote and leaned back against the bed's backrest, watching as a woman dressed in a white lab coat placed a slide beneath a microscope and leaned in to examine it. A man's deep voice was saying something about DNA and matching chromosomes, but I quickly tuned out again.

I found myself wondering what was going to happen tomorrow, whether Bryce would continue on with this stupid idea of his or reveal it all to be a joke. I hated the fact that it was bothering me, especially if it turned out to be a stupid joke after all, so I pushed the thoughts from my mind.

A few minutes later the door banged open and our dad walked in. He was wearing a ratty work coat and a faded blue ball cap, both of which were soaked from the heavy rain outside.

"Dad!" Sam beamed as he bounced off the bed and ran to help our father with his jacket. He struggled to hang the heavy coat on a hook by the door, too short to reach. He was busy scrambling atop a chair as John turned to face me. He gave me a nod in greeting and I nodded back. I didn't let the relief I felt show on my face.

"You boys eat dinner yet?" he asked as he placed a hand on Sam's head, ruffling his hair.

"Dean bought us some burgers. They were gross."

John chuckled. "I bet they were."

I wanted to ask him how the hunt had gone, whether he had succeeded in killing the Succubus he was hunting or if he was just here for a reprieve, to gather more information. Before I got the chance to question him he was already making his way to the bathroom, mumbling about how he needed a good, hot shower.

I sighed as Sam scurried back onto his bed and continued to watch the documentary. He didn't seem upset that our dad had been gone for the past week. Usually I wouldn't have minded either - both of us were used to being left by ourselves, sometimes even for months. What bothered me was that John had not asked me to accompany him on this hunt. I knew babysitting Sam or missing school were not the reasons for him doing so. He had refused to bring me along for a number of hunts, ever since I messed up. Ever since I had gotten that woman killed. He had never told me that was the reason, since we never talked about it, but I knew. I wondered if he'd ever trust me again after that disaster.

When John came out of the shower, dressed and clean, I didn't feel like discussing the hunt with him anymore. Instead, I pretended to be absorbed by Sam's documentary, staring straight ahead at the small, crappy television screen. Sam ran off to brush his teeth and I was surprised when John asked me how school was. "Same as usual," I answered, shrugging.

"You make any friends?"

I held back a smirk. "There's a really friendly girl in my Spanish class. She gives me a hand whenever I need it."

"That's good," John said, though I could tell he wasn't really paying attention. Something else was on his mind, and when I looked over at him he was nodding his head slowly, staring off into space.

"Dad?" I called. My voice seemed to snap him out of whatever thought he had lost himself in. "You okay?"

"Yeah," he answered gruffly. "Just tired." He pulled the covers away from the bed and climbed in. "You and Sam only have to share a bed for tonight. I'm leaving again in the morning."

I didn't say anything as I shut off the TV and turned the light off, getting under my own covers. I lay on my side, facing the wall, and listened to the sound of a running tap drifting from the bathroom. Sam always insisted on brushing his teeth for two and a half minutes. He even counted. Sometimes I saw his fingers move with the seconds, each rising and then his whole hand crumpling in as he began another set of five. Most kids hated brushing their teeth. I knew I had lied countless times to my mom when she had asked me every night whether I had done it. After she died the question had stopped being asked, and so I had sometimes gone days without brushing. I had the cavities to prove it. Not Sam, though. He was always diligent about it.

I heard the click of the door and then Sam was climbing into the bed next to me. Soon soft snoring filled the room. Both my brother and my father were asleep, but as hard as I tried I couldn't bring myself to close my eyes. I couldn't stop staring at the white, flimsy curtain that covered the large motel window. Behind it, rain pounded the cars resting in the parking lot and the faded asphalt they stood upon.

I was tired as hell, but I knew as soon as I let my eyes slide closed I would see that image in my head again. It would replay on the back of my eyelids like a crappy film strip, over and over again until I was sick. Even if sleep did happen to claim me, I knew I would relive it in my dreams. Part of me longed to experience that, because maybe that way I'd be able to save her. Maybe I would reach her before it was too late and she was bleeding out on the floor, wide, scared eyes staring up at me, asking me why I hadn't saved her, why I had let her die. But I knew I would have to wake up sooner or later, and when reality squirmed its way back into my consciousness I would remember what had really played out and the pain would be as fresh as that day.

Inhaling deeply, I prepared myself for another sleepless night.

* * *

**To be continued.**


	2. Tuesday

**SEVEN DAYS**

Tuesday

**8:55 AM**

My eyes felt like they had been rubbed dry and my jaw was aching from yawning by the time I made it to school. Katie was waiting for me by the main entrance and I followed her to her locker as she babbled on about her party some more. Students rushed past us, some in clumps that took up the entire length of the hallway, others by themselves, looking annoyed at the groups that blocked their path and slowed them down.

Katie was playing with the collar of my shirt, looking up at me as she talked about the privacy her bedroom would give us at her party, when I saw Bryce out of the corner of my eye. My head turned on its own, following the guy as he passed by, his backpack hanging on his narrow shoulders, still smudged with dirt. He was staring ahead, but I could tell he wasn't seeing anything in front of him. His body was on autopilot as his mind was distracted by something else in his head.

"Do you know him?" Katie asked me. The tone in her voice was akin to revulsion. I glanced at her, and sure enough, she had that bitchy 'I'm-better-than-you' look on her face as she watched Bryce walk down the hall. She had worn that same expression last week when a girl had walked into Spanish class wearing the same skirt as her.

"I've talked with him," I answered, trying to sound nonchalant about the encounter. "Why?"

"I don't know why girls keep asking him out," she huffed, not really answering my question. "He's so messed up."

"Messed up?" I echoed. I had not expected the cruel description. "How's he messed up?"

The bell rang and Katie shut her locker. "See you in Spanish class, Dean," she said, blowing me a kiss and giving a wink before she shimmied her way down the hallway. I had a feeling she hadn't heard a thing I had said to her.

I glanced back the way Bryce had gone, knowing I was going to have to speak with him eventually. I was still a little uncomfortable with the way we had left things. I found him in the library after first period. He was reading a black bound book with no title anywhere on the cover or binding. I would have asked him what the title was if I had wanted to make casual conversation, but I told myself that I didn't want to talk with him any more than was necessary.

I pulled out the chair beside him and sat down, taking out some textbook I had never glanced at to make it look like I was here to read in the silence. Inside the book was a Playboy magazine I had stuffed in there before school, but that didn't matter. I wasn't going to open the thing.

"Hey," I greeted, and it took a moment for him to look up and acknowledge me, as if he was finishing a sentence or mentally pulling himself away from whatever story he was reading.

"Hi," he said back before returning his gaze to the book. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to make sure we were cool," I explained. "I mean, we're clear on things, right?"

"Yeah, we're cool." I could tell he was half absorbed in the book, his words sounding distant.

I waited a few moments for him to say more, but he remained silent. The real reason I had come here was not because I was worried he was going to spread strange rumours about us. It was because of his comment about monsters. I had thought about it all night, once I had gotten over the fact that he had assumed we were dating, and the more I analyzed his words the more curious I became. Why had he mentioned monsters like that? Had he seen one? Did he know they existed?

The silence in the library began to grow stifling and I lost my nerve to ask him about his strange comment. I told myself it was probably nothing. He couldn't possibly know the truth. No one ever did, until it was too late. I guessed there was nothing else to talk about, so I got up silently and left Bryce with his nameless book.

**12:30 PM**

I had decided to eat lunch outside on the bleachers because I didn't want to listen to Katie today. Not many people were out here on account that it was raining slightly. I had my hood pulled over my head, enjoying the silence as I bit into the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I had quickly made this morning. I didn't like Chicken Tuesdays anymore than I enjoyed Monday Surprise. I had heard rumors that a student had found a feather still attached to her chicken last year and I didn't want to take any chances.

I suddenly heard my name being called and looked around the garden, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. Aside from a group of stoners huddled in the far corner, there was no one around.

"Dean!" The voice yelled louder. I realized it was coming from behind me just as a pebble missed my head by a few inches and bounced off the bleacher's first two benches. I stood up and looked over the brick wall. Below me, standing on the sidewalk, was Sam.

"What the hell are you doing here?" I asked my brother.

"Meet me at the east gate."

Then he was heading down the street and I had no choice but to obey. But when I made it to our destination someone else greeted me.

"Hey."

I swung my head to the left, following the sudden voice, and noticed Bryce crouching by the side gate. He was sitting on his haunches, his back leaning against the bricks behind him, his fingers twiddling with a brown leaf as his hands rested on his knees.

I opened my mouth to reply, to ask him what he was doing here instead of enjoying lunch inside, when I heard Sam approaching. I swivelled my head to the right and saw the kid bounding down the sidewalk. His backpack must have weighed a ton, because he seemed to be struggling with it as he ran. One of the straps had torn a few months ago and now he had to lug his books around on one shoulder.

"Dean!" he called again, reaching a hand up to wave above his head. I watched him with anxious eyes as he approached, wondering what could possibly have been so important that he had skipped school to tell me. As he finally reached the side gate he bent over and placed his hands on his knees, regaining his breath. I reached over and took the bag from him, worrying he was going to break his shoulder if he continued to insist on dragging the whole library with him wherever he went.

"Jesus, Sam," I grunted as I lowered it to the ground. "What do you have in here? A bag of cement?" My brother didn't seem to hear me. He looked up with wide, bright eyes, his cheeks flushed from running.

"Did you forget your phone?" he asked me, already having recovered his breath. "Dad called me. He said he's been trying to get in contact with you."

I cursed, reaching into my pocket and pulling out my cell. The battery was dead. "I forgot to charge it last night," I mumbled. It was the first time I had forgotten.

"Well, dad wants you back at the motel by two thirty today. He said he needs your help. You're going to have to-" He seemed to notice something, his face showing uncertainty as he glanced around me.

I had forgotten Bryce was there myself, but I didn't look behind me as I pushed Sam up the street a ways and out of earshot. "What did dad say?" I prodded.

"He just said he needed your help. Nothing more."

I wondered what help he needed. Was my dad finally giving me another chance? Was he going to ask me to attend his latest hunt with him? I had never hunted a Succubus before.

"Two thirty?" I confirmed. Sam nodded his head and then I was handing him his backpack again. "I got the message. Now get your ass back to school before you miss something important."

Sam beamed. "I'm on lunch break right now."

"So instead of eating you came here to give me dad's message?"

He shrugged. "It was important."

"Take this and eat it on your way back." I handed him the second half of my sandwich. "And tell dad I got his message. I'll be there by two thirty."

"Got it."

As Sam left I turned around, prepared to go back into the school. I was beginning to feel the cold but luckily it had stopped raining. I didn't want Sam to get wet on his walk back to class.

Bryce got to his feet, readjusting the strap on his shoulder as I approached the side gate again. "Is that your brother?" he asked, gesturing to Sam as the boy trundled up the hill.

"Yeah, my kid brother." I made a mental note to buy Sam a new backpack as I watched him go.

"You two don't seem very alike."

"We aren't," I stated. Sam disappeared around the corner and then I was walking back through the gate. I didn't hear Bryce following me and that was fine. We weren't friends. We _definitely_ weren't more than friends. I was glad I had straightened that out. He seemed to have let it go, and now things could go back to normal. I never thought that would be a relief, always having considered normal boring, but that was the exact emotion I felt as I entered the school and was hit with a blast of heated air.

My relief was short-lived, however, because suddenly I was filled with anxiety. What did my dad have to speak to me about? Was he finally going to address what had happened? Was he finally going to make me relive the event verbally? It was all I could think about the rest of the day. Even when Katie got angry at me for standing her up during lunch I was too preoccupied by my worries to apologize. I even rejected her hand job in Spanish class.

**2:30 PM**

John was packing the last few of his knives into a duffel bag when I got back to the motel room. "I thought you were leaving at noon," was the first thing I said to him. I assumed he would explain why he was still here but instead he threw another duffel bag at me.

"Pack Sam's clothes in there," he ordered me.

I was confused. "Are we leaving?"

He didn't answer me, and so I began to stuff a few of Sam's shirts into the grey bag as I waited for the man to reply. I knew better than to force an answer from him.

"You're going to stay here and you're going to go to school," he finally said after a few minutes. I was zipping up Sam's bag, having packed his last few articles of clothing. "I got a call from one of your teachers today. He said one of your assignments is late."

"It's just a stupid essay," I explained. "He assigned it on my first day. I'll tell him I'm still trying to adjust to the new school and I'm sure he'll give me an extension."

John grunted but didn't push the topic any further. I stood as I watched him zip up his own duffel bag, still waiting for an explanation. Still wondering whether it would be good or bad news. Then, there it was.

"I'm bringing Sam with me."

I stared at him for a moment, trying to process his words. "You're bringing Sam?" I repeated like an idiot.

My dad nodded his head and I tried to come up with a reason why Sam was needed on the hunt. Before I could ask, my dad was already answering. "Sam needs to start learning the family business. He needs to know how to protect himself and how to take on a Supernatural being. They don't teach that stuff in the books he reads."

I tried to imagine Sam on a hunt, carrying around a sawed-off shotgun that stood more than half the length he was. I knew he could fire one no problem, that he had on more than one occasion during shooting practice, but Sam had never killed anything before. He had never aimed his gun at a living, breathing thing, whether evil or not. He had never been put into a situation where innocent lives were at risk and it was his responsibility to ensure the end results were to their favor.

"You want him to help you hunt a Succubus?" I didn't fear for the kid's physical safety, not with my dad around. But what if the hunt caused damage that Sam could not be protected from? The thought filled me with panic. I didn't want my brother to be subject to the same torment I felt. I didn't want him to know what it was like to watch someone die in front of you knowing you could have stopped the event from happening.

"Sammy's just a kid," I said, trying hard not to raise my voice. "I was older when you took me on my first hunt. He's not ready to-"

"He's going to have to learn someday, Dean. The earlier he starts learning what's really out there, the better."

I could feel the panic rising inside of me. "If it's just another set of hands you need on this hunt, _I_ can help you, dad. It doesn't have to be Sam."

"It can't be you, Dean. Sam will be fine."

"Dad, I-"

"Just do as I've told you." His voice had changed. It had gained that cold, hard edge I was all too familiar with. It meant that he was done with the conversation and the smartest thing I could do was shut up and accept it.

I lowered my head, praying to god he wouldn't see the anxiety I knew was displayed on my face. "Yes sir," I answered. I battled the dread that was threatening to consume me. I tried not to picture a broken Sam, his eyes soulless and his face devoid of anything that had once made him my little brother. I was always encouraging him to spend his time training instead of reading books, but the truth was I had been secretly glad that Sam didn't show much interest in hunting the supernatural. It meant he was easier to protect.

That was my job, wasn't it? To protect. If I couldn't even shield my little brother, what hope did I have in saving anyone else?

"I'm going to pick him up at school and leave straight away. We won't be back for a couple of days." John grabbed Sam's duffel bag from my hand and slung it over his shoulder with his own full of knives. On his way out the door he said, "And stop with the burgers for dinner. You've got to start eating healthier."

**7:15 PM**

I took my dad's advice about my eating habits. The local burger joint wasn't that great, anyway. The portions were too small and the food was always cold by the time I got back to the motel. Instead I decided to scour a nearby convenience store, wondering if I could find something quick and edible for dinner. For once I didn't have to consider Sam's taste, though that thought didn't exactly fill me with joy.

I didn't even realize some of my classmates were in the store until I made my way to the front to pay. I held a box of cereal in one hand and a jug of milk in the other when I saw three kids I recognized from the hallways of Kimberley Trenton high school. I knew one of them was from my year, a redhead who I had seen knock a few geeks against lockers. He was accompanied by two others, a large kid who looked like he was a miniature giant, and a blonde in a polo shirt with a face that was too long.

They were surrounding someone who was waiting in line, and I cursed my luck as I realized who it was. Bryce Caldwell. I recognized him even though his back was turned to me. He was still carrying his backpack, and it _still_ had not been cleaned.

"Yeah, what the fuck is wrong with you, huh?" the big guy asked, giving Bryce a little shove. "You didn't find anyone to date this week? Have the girls finally realized you're a freak?" As the three friends laughed I figured they were in the middle of bullying Bryce. I didn't want to get involved and considered leaving, but instead I stood there and listened.

"Hey Andrew," the redhead called to the blonde. "Didn't your girlfriend date this loser?"

"That was last year, man." Andrew seemed uncomfortable with the topic of conversation, looking irritated at his friend for bringing it up.

"Come on. What, you don't talk?" The big guy shoved Bryce again, this time harder. Bryce had to stumble a little to keep his footing, but he stood straight again with no comment, continuing to wait patiently in line as if there weren't three assholes harassing him.

"He probably doesn't understand us," Redhead offered, flicking Bryce's ear. "He's half Chinese, isn't he?"

"He grew up here, you dumbass," Andrew replied. "He can understand us just fine."

"So what, he's just _ignoring_ us then?" Redhead was getting a little angry. He flicked Bryce's ear again. "He won't even defend himself. Aren't the Chinese supposed to be good at martial arts and shit?"

Big Guy let out a guffaw. "What's he going to do to us? Look at how scrawny he is."

"I wouldn't underestimate him, Josh," Redhead smiled wickedly. "He's already killed one person, hasn't he?"

Bryce reacted with such speed I barely had time to process that he had moved before he was on top of Redhead, pummelling him with his fists as the guy cowered on the ground. It seemed Josh and Andrew were just as shocked, because it took a few seconds before they attempted to pull him off of their friend, throwing him backwards where he crashed into a display of cream-filled eggs. A number of the chocolates went scattering across the tiled floor, and the cashier began shouting for everyone to get out as two customers exited the store.

The boys didn't seem to hear the middle-aged woman, however, because as Bryce tried to stand up Josh was stomping towards him. He grabbed him by the collar and heaved him upwards, pushing him back until he slammed against the front counter. The cashier screamed and moved back, colliding with the wall of cigarettes behind her and causing a few packs to tumble to the ground. Josh slammed a fist into Bryce's stomach, causing him to double up and gasp for air. Meanwhile, Andrew had already helped his friend up, who was now sporting a messy, gory nose that matched his hair colour. There was a ferocious snarl on his face and I watched him crush a number of chocolate eggs beneath his feet as he made his way towards Josh and Bryce.

In most circumstances I would have simply watched, not really the type who liked to join in brawls that weren't mine, but it always pissed me off when a fight became unfair. Not only was Bryce facing three guys by himself, but he was also a lot scrawnier than them. Even if the cashier had already called the cops, Bryce was still probably going to get the shit kicked out of him before they arrived.

"You fucking dickshit!" Redhead screamed as he shoved Josh out of the way and took a swing at Bryce. The kid managed to avoid the fist, however, twisting his head to the side now that he was given more freedom. That only seemed to make the redhead angrier, however, and this time he managed to press a forearm against Bryce's neck, pinning him against the top of the counter. He drew back a fist, but just as he was about to let it come crashing down on Bryce's face, I decided to step in.

I had picked up one of the chocolate eggs from the floor and I tossed it at the redhead, hitting him in the head. It was enough to distract him from his main goal, and he cranked his head around sharply to stare at me. I waved before calling out, "Mind making this a fair fight?"

The three guys looked confused for a moment, but then Redhead was spitting a wad of blood on the floor before growling, "Get out of here, shitface. This isn't your fight, and Katie isn't here for you to hide behind."

I smirked at his comment. "True." I took a casual step forward, my hands clasped behind my back. "Katie isn't here to hide behind, but I think I'll take my chances with you three."

Redhead glanced at his large friend. "Take care of this asshole, would you?"

Josh stepped forward but then seemed to hesitate as I pierced him with a glare. I already knew he would rely on his girth to knock me down. I would have to come in low and hit him hard. That was the only way I would be able to get him off of his feet and out of the fight for at least the beginning. It would be easy to knock Andrew out in a punch or two. He obviously had no fighting ability. I would have to recover from the tackle quickly though, and then there was the redhead. I couldn't decide whether he would split or stay after his friends were taken out of the equation. Was he a runner or a fighter?

"I've called the cops!" the cashier yelled from a hallway at the side of the store, her head poking out of the narrow entrance. "You kids better get out of my store before they get here."

I blinked once at the three boys, Bryce still struggling against Redhead's arm. John was hesitating even more now, and as he glanced back at Redhead I knew the fight wasn't going to happen. It would have to be saved for another day.

Redhead finally released Bryce, stepping back as he pointed a finger at the guy. "You so much as look me in the eyes at school and you're dead," he spat. "I'll send you to hell myself." Redhead then turned his finger to me. "And you. You better watch your back, asshole."

As they left, I wondered if a threat like that had actually made anyone fearful before, but my musings were quickly interrupted by the cashier who was continuing to yell bloody murder from her hallway. I quickly grabbed Bryce, who was doubled over coughing by the counter, and pulled him out of the store and down the street a few blocks. By the time we had put a safe distance between us and the store, he had become quiet, though his voice was raw when he spoke.

"Thanks," he said.

"You get in fights like that often?" I asked him, though I didn't expect an answer. I grabbed his wrist and twisted it, turning his palm to the floor so that I could get a good view of his knuckles in the light of a streetlamp above us. He let out a huff of irritation but he didn't try to pull away. His knuckles were red and beginning to bruise, a few cuts standing out where the skin had split. I noticed his thumb looked a little swollen, and when I went to touch it he quickly drew back his hand, hissing in pain.

I smirked. "You obviously don't fight much," I remarked. "Don't even know how to deliver a hit properly. When making a fist, make sure your thumb is on the outside." I reached for his other hand and positioned his fingers into a proper fist. "Like this," I told him. "That way you won't injure yourself as badly. No broken digits."

I looked up to see if he had gotten the message, if he was paying attention to my instructions, but the force of his gaze surprised me. He was looking at me with a mixture of emotions, the most clear being confusion, but obviously not caused by my words. He seemed to be more puzzled about why I was teaching him in the first place.

Looking away, I let his hand go and it dropped back to his side. "Anyway, you should get your thumb checked out. Just looks like a bad sprain, but you never know."

He said nothing in reply but just continued to stare. I looked around, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Yeah, so don't expect me to help out next time. You were lucky I live around here." Still, no response. "I'll be going then," I said, taking a step back.

"You wanna go get something to eat?" he asked me. It was my turn to have no words. "Have you eaten dinner yet?" he prodded further.

I shook my head. "No. I was kind of buying it when your little fight interrupted me and got us kicked out of the store."

"You were buying dinner at a convenience store?"

"What's wrong with that?"

He smiled, and for once it was a genuine one. I could hardly believe it. This guy had just gotten the crap kicked out of him and _now_ he was deciding to smile. "Nothing's wrong with that," he replied. "But I know someplace better to eat."

I frowned. I hadn't exactly been ecstatic about the Cheerios I had decided to eat, and returning to an empty motel room with an empty stomach or cold hamburgers wasn't very appealing either. "What did you have in mind?"

**8:33 PM**

I had never been in a restaurant like this before. Bryce had taken me to some foreign Asian place, and although the pictures of dishes plastered all over the front window didn't look all too bad, I wasn't sure what I was getting myself into.

The place was dead inside, though Bryce assured me that it was only because it was late on a Tuesday night. There was a young Asian girl standing by the door when we entered, her black hair in pigtails that stuck out from the sides of her head. "Oppa!" she greeted excitedly. As we sat down at a booth she began to say something in another language, her words too quick for me to even hope to hear clearly. Bryce looked over the table at me with a slight smile before returning his attention to her.

He motioned for her to come closer and she leaned over. As he whispered something in her ear I watched as her eyes grew wide. She stepped back, glancing from me to Bryce, before she ran away shrieking and giggling. Bryce chuckled and I looked at him suspiciously. "What the fuck just happened?" I asked, not too thrilled that I had been unable to understand their conversation.

"She was just curious about you. She asked me who you are."

I narrowed my eyes. "And what exactly did you tell her?"

He shrugged innocently. "Just that you were the new kid at my school."

I didn't believe him for a second, but I couldn't figure out what had made the girl go screaming like she had just gotten a pony for Christmas. I decided to change the topic, feeling uncomfortable. "She called you 'oppa' when we first came in," I mentioned. "What's that?"

"It means 'brother' in Korean. Just a term girls call older guys they're close to."

"So that's what this all is," I said as I looked around the place. We had entered a small restaurant with wooden tables and chairs. The writing on the walls and on the menu were all in some strange alphabet I couldn't recognize. It consisted of a number of lines and circles. I figured it was Korean. If Sam had been here he probably would have already known that.

"Yeah, I come here often," Bryce admitted. "My mother was Korean."

I looked at him strangely. "Was? You talk about her like she's dead. I thought you said she dropped you off this morning at school."

"That's my adoptive mother," Bryce clarified, his head dipping. "My birth mother died when she had me."

I frowned, noting that we had both lost our mothers. "I'm sorry to hear that," I said, not really sure what else I could offer.

"Thanks," he said. Then he looked up at me and smiled again. "How about we order? You hungry?"

I picked up a menu and looked at it quizzically. "Maybe if I could read this alien script."

I heard Bryce laugh and it stilled my searching gaze. It was the first time I had heard the guy laugh like that, and the sound was so unexpected that it threw me off for a moment. I quickly recollected myself and tossed the menu back on the counter. "I'll just have what you're having," I announced.

"You sure?" he asked. "Food here can be pretty spicy."

I looked at him like he had just insulted me, taking his words as a challenge. "Bring it on."

An hour later I was draining my cup of water for the fifth time, my tongue and mouth on fire. I didn't know what kind of secret ingredient Koreans had, but this stuff was fucking _hot_. Bryce refused to stop laughing as I struggled to use the chopsticks he had presented to me at the beginning of our meal. I had given up using them the proper way a long time ago, choosing to spear pieces of food with the wooden sticks instead.

I stabbed a long tube-like piece of food – something called duk bokki, according to Bryce – with a chopstick, making sure to keep the food in place as I guided it to my mouth. However, before I could swallow it the food slid from the utensil and fell onto my lap.

Bryce broke out into a fit of laughter across from me and I scowled at him. "Give me a break, it's my first time," I argued, annoyed that I had been refused a fork or spoon to use. Hell, even a knife would have been better. I watched as Bryce picked up one of the duk bokki with the two sticks, expertly taking a bite of one side before grinning at me.

I rolled my eyes, plucking the fallen food from my lap and shoving it into my mouth with my fingers. "Don't worry," Bryce said. "It takes practice. You'll get used to it."

I mumbled a curse as I used a napkin to angrily wipe at the red sauce that now covered my jeans. And suddenly I was recalling the blood that had splattered my clothes during that night. My movements stopped, my body growing rigid again.

_Not now. Not here._

I closed my eyes, hoping to gain control of the remorse that was quickly flooding me. "Are you all right?" I heard Bryce ask. I refused to look across the table at him. Instead, I forced myself to continue wiping the sauce from my pants.

"Yeah," I replied, my voice only slightly shaky. "But do they sell alcohol here? I could use a drink."

* * *

**To be continued.**


End file.
